


Fool's Gold

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-16
Updated: 2011-03-20
Packaged: 2019-01-19 02:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: After his last date-gone-wrong, Draco has only one wish. What he doesn't expect is what happens next.





	1. The Wish

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Draco Malfoy rotated his drink in his hand as he listened to the woman sitting across from him. Well, maybe _listen_ was exaggerating the fact a little bit. In actuality, he was hearing her speak, but couldn’t recall what she had said even five seconds ago. He closed his eyes as he raised the glass to his lips and took a long drink.

 

It wasn’t that she was unattractive. At least, he didn’t think so, but he had always found his judgment fickle. At this moment in time, however, he had to confess that she was quite pleasant to look at. She had ringlets, something he had always thought of as a pretty detail. Her forearm rested lightly on the table, fork in hand, and her other was tucked underneath, sitting comfortably on her lap. Her voice had a singing quality to it, and he wasn’t opposed to the idea of listening to her speak, if only to hear it. 

 

However, despite her appearance, he found himself completely and utterly bored. For God’s sake, he thought himself a rather intelligent man, but all she seemed to want to talk about were petty topics – the weather, her clothing, his hair. He thought it to be rather shallow, and could not stay focused. It happened more than once over the course of the evening that he had attempted to broach a topic that _he_ was interested in, only for it to be shut down with a high-pitched laugh and a tactless return to the previous subject. 

 

He even found her smile dull. More often than not, she appeared to be forcing the expression onto her face – and Draco knew all about forced smiles. They don’t reach the wearer’s eyes, they don’t light up a room, they don’t have any of the romantic qualities that Draco liked to believe could be captured by a real, genuine smile. But she was having none of that. 

 

“I’ve never been here before, so I hope they have something you like.” 

 

“You _haven’t?_ Is that why the hostess knew you _by name_?” 

 

Draco sat up straight, immediately alert. He knew that voice well, though on the occasions in which he had become familiar with it, it was usually spouting insults toward him. Still, there was no mistaking it, and only a slight shift of his gaze confirmed his suspicious: Hermione Granger had just arrived. 

 

He watched as she and her date were led to a table across the room from him. She looked around the room curiously, and it was soon obvious to him that although her date may frequent the restaurant (or not, Draco did not know), Hermione had never been there before. 

 

Her date pulled her chair out for her and she sat down gingerly, sending him a small smile of gratitude, one which held more emotion than Draco’s date had shown all evening. His throat suddenly felt constricted, and he loosened his tie. It had been years since he had seen her, but even that was too soon. He would be happy to have never seen her again, for not only were they sworn enemies, he thought it would be embarrassing, after all they had been through. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t ashamed of his past. 

 

She laughed at something that her date said, and Draco felt his eyes being drawn to it. How lively she seemed, and energetic, while his own date was still basking in the seriousness of wedding etiquette, something which he had no desire to discuss or even think about. 

 

He looked across the table again. But wasn’t this the type of woman he had always expected to spend his life with? One who would stand by him and fill his ears with insignificant mush while he internally battled his own dilemmas. She would not give him any trouble, surely, and would not pick any fights, as he was sure Granger would if someone would ever lower themselves to marry her. 

 

He almost laughed at the thought. He severely pitied the man who became attached to her for the rest of his life! He fought back a grimace and turned back to the woman in front of him. She, luckily, had not noticed his wavering attentions, and carried on as if nothing had happened. 

 

_Lovely,_ he thought, taking another drink from his glass. There was her smile again, if you could call it that. Every time he looked at it, he liked it less and less. Was it really so hard to smile and _mean_ it? 

 

Without realizing it, he sighed and shook his head. 

 

“Is something wrong?” He lifted his head up. His date was looking straight into his eyes questioningly. He shook his head again. 

 

“No.” She continued talking. 

 

He looked back over at Granger. Her smile hadn’t left her face, and he noticed that it was genuine. Her hand was placed lightly on her date’s arm and she seemed completely enraptured by everything he was saying. And, knowing Granger, it would take quite an intellectual conversation to keep her engrossed. He was almost jealous. _Almost._

 

He looked down at his plate. He had finished his meal long ago, but his date seemed to be taking her merry time. He rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently – not that she would know. He would never show any obvious ourward signs of his irritation, it was just not what a gentleman did. And Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a gentleman. He caught the waiter’s eye and signaled for more wine. He would need a lot of it. 

 

Again, Hermione’s laugh rang throughout the restaurant. Or was it just his imagination? Could it be that he desired a trace of that happy emotion so much that her smile, her laugh, her voice was magnified in his ears? He shook the thought, the sound, from his head. All of this reminiscing was being to take it’s toll on him, and he was ready to go. 

 

“Are you almost finished?” Draco asked sharply. He wanted to leave, and get away from Granger as quickly as possible. He already felt lucky that she hadn’t noticed him. He didn’t want to risk anything by staying longer. 

 

At his prompting, she took another bite of her food and chewed it slowly. She smiled at him coyly, and he imagined she was trying to grab his attention, but again, he couldn’t help but see the lack of emotion behind the action. Did she think he would be attracted to a fake smile? Of course, he was so rarely attracted by anyone, so he couldn’t blame her. He rued the day he would find himself in love. 

 

“Almost,” she said, in her sing-song voice. Draco had liked it before, but he was growing quickly tired of it. He assumed it was normal – he often changed his mind quickly, and it certainly would not be the first time his interest had faded over the course of a single hour. He checked his wristwatch and amended that statement. It had only been thirty minutes since he had thought her charming. 

 

His eyes involuntarily flicked back to Hermione’s table. Her date obviously thought her charming. It was obvious in the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, even though Draco was sure she was droning on about something inconsequential. Her date was even chuckling at her as she at her food. Draco scoffed. What was so funny about eating? Surely he had done it before, if he was still there and sitting in front of her. 

 

His own date cleared her throat, and he noticed that she had finished eating. Relieved, he caught the waiter’s attention and asked for the check, which was brought over promptly. Quickly, Draco paid and led her out of the restaurant, ready to exchange pleasantries before apparating back to Malfoy Manor. 

 

“I had a nice time,” he said formally. She nodded. “I trust you can apparate back to your flat?” Again, she nodded. Inwardly grinning at the fact that he wouldn’t be in this boring situation much longer, he planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, gave her a slight smile – one which he was sure held as much feeling as hers did – and apparated to the Manor. 

 

Sighing, he hung up his jacket and reflected back on the night. It had gone very much like any other date he had gone on. He had resigned himself to this fact, and yet seeing Granger so jovial had stirred something inside him. 

 

_Why can’t I have a good time?_ He asked himself bitterly as he changed for bed. _Don’t I deserve some happiness?_

  


He knew he didn’t. He was still paying for his wrongdoings during the war at his own hand, and this was simply one more factor to consider. If it would help his conscience at all, he would go on a million more dreary dates. 

 

_I just want to be able to smile_ , he thought as he pulled back the blankets and got into his bed. Then, he added, _a real smile._


	2. The Gold

The first thing Draco noticed the next morning was that his feet were hanging off the edge of the bed. Eyes still closed, he furrowed his brow in confusion. Had he grown an extra foot during the night? His next thought was that his blankets felt oddly lighter than they had when he had gone to sleep. And yet, although he could feel that there was less covering him, he was still sweating profusely.  

Finally, he opened his eyes, and immediately sat up in a panic. He was _not_ in his bed, he was _not_ in his room, and he would be damned if he was still at Malfoy Manor. Someone stirred next to him, and he turned his head to look at them. It was a woman, with long, curly brown hair. His eyes widened and he gasped. He had just woken up next to Hermione Granger.

She turned towards him and opened her eyes, still half-asleep. “Draco, what’s wrong?” she asked tiredly, her hand reaching up to rub his bare back.

_Where is my shirt?_ He asked himself, flustered. At the feel of her hand on his skin, he jumped out of the bed. Hermione hoisted herself up onto her elbow and peered at him. He groaned and looked away when he realized that she was naked as well. He had no doubt in his mind that it was because of her that he was here and not in his own bed. He didn’t know how she did it, but he knew it had to be because of her, and it irritated him.

He didn’t _want_ to be wherever he was, with this woman lying next to him, so then why _was_ he there?

“Are you alright?” she asked, less groggily this time.

He turned briskly to face her. “Am I alright?” he repeated. “Am I _fucking-_ ” he broke off, his anger rising. Anger at Hermione Granger, because he was sure this was her fault in some way or another. “What the _hell_ am I doing here, Granger?”

Her eyes hardened. “ _Granger?_ ” she said icily. “Did you just call me _Granger?_ I knew you were immature, Draco, but are you _twelve_?”

“Well, that’s your goddamn name, isn’t it?”

She laughed, but she was still glaring hard at him. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was too confused and angry to care. “Is this your way of taking back everything you said last night? Because you told me you didn’t care what your father said.” She was sounding defiant now, and it only drove him further. Hermione was now sitting up in bed, clutching the bedsheets to her chest, thankfully, so Draco didn’t have to look at her bare body.  

“Are you bloody out of your mind? I was never-” he looked down at his hand and gasped. There it was, on his left ring finger. A simple, conservative, silver wedding band.

“Oh, _fucking hell_ ,” he muttered, falling back into a sitting position on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to Hermione. “We’re _married_?”

Last night he had gone straight to bed after his date. He had paid Hermione one, maybe two more thoughts, but he would certainly have remembered if he had ended up at her _house_. _Married_.

She didn’t release her glare from him. “Not for long, apparently,” she said grudgingly. “I guess I’m just no match for the famous Malfoy honor.”  

 “What are you on about? There is no Malfoy honor.” He needed to lie down. A lot was happening very quickly, and he was having trouble keeping up with everything. Not ten minutes had passed since he woke up, and he had already learned that he was married, and to Hermione Granger no less, and apparently his father had some place in all of this mess as well.

“That’s not what you told your son at the platform a year ago, when he didn’t want to go to Hogwarts.”

Oh, and he had a son. He groaned and lay back down on the bed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

“Serioulsy, Draco, what is wrong with you?” she asked, sounding slightly worried this time, though he could still hear a hint of anger in her tone. He looked at her.

“I don’t know, Grang – _Hermione_ ,” he corrected. He didn’t even bother sounding acrimonious or shooting her a hateful look.  

There was a knock on the door. Hermione sighed and tore her eyes away from Draco. She stood up and threw on a robe. “Come in,” she called. The door cracked open, revealing a young girl. She had hair only a little darker than Draco’s, pulled back into a ponytail, and his same dark grey eyes, but her facial structure and build were Hermione’s. He only had to look at her to know it was true.

They were married. And they had children.

How long had he been asleep?

“Mum,” she said quietly, shuffling into the room, “I was only wondering when breakfast was going to be ready.”

Hermione walked over to her and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be down in a minute darling,” she said. “Why don’t you go set the table for me?” The girl smiled up at her, nodded, and left the room.

Hermione shut the door behind her and leaned her back against it, crossing her arms and looking back at Draco. After a few moments of tense silence, she came over to him and sat down beside him on the bed. She placed her hand on his thigh and started rubbing her thumb over his skin. He stared at it and swallowed hard.

“Go take a shower,” she said. “I’ll see you downstairs.” She gave him a small smile before she left, leaving him alone.

He immediately stood up and placed a silencing charm on the room.

“ _What the fuck?_ ” he yelled as loud as he could. He kicked the wall, the door, the dresser. He threw his fist at the wall with everything he could, leaving a large dent. He glared at it. He picked his wand up again from the bedside table and fingered it for a second before throwing a hex straight into the mirror.

It shattered, of course. Pieces flew onto the floor, some whizzed by his face. One hit him in the arm. He yelped as it cut his skin, and grabbed his arm immediately. He shut his eyes tightly to block out the pain and fell back onto the bed.

“ _Reparo_ ,” he muttered, flicking his wand toward the mirror. Then he looked back down at his arm. A drop of blood dripped onto the bed.

“Fuck,” he groaned. Deciding it was time for a shower, he got up and left the bedroom, making sure to slam the door on his way out.

 

-000-

 

“Calliope, would you like chocolate chips in your pancakes?”

“Yes, please!”

He heard them talking in the kitchen from where he sat in the living room. Through the cracked open door, he could even see the back of Hermione’s head, hunched over as she made her children breakfast. It was all so surreal.

He watched her through the small sliver as she took two plates of pancakes and placed them on the table, in front of her two children, he guessed. He had learned there were two of them – the boy took more after Hermione than himself, though. In fact, the only thing about the boy preventing Draco from questioning his paternity was his angular chin, pointed nose, and pale complexion, so much like Draco’s own. He sat down on the couch with a huff.

Suddenly, her eyes locked with his through the door. He blanched and looked away, praying she wouldn’t come in. He was having enough trouble dealing with all this through the almost-closed door, but to come face-to-face with it? He needed more time.

The door was slowly pushed open, but he still refused to look up. “Draco,” she said softly. He kept his gaze pointed down at his feet. “Draco, look at me.”

He wished she would stop using his first name. She said it so gently, like a whisper, and it made it seem like such a _weak_ name. He wasn’t weak, and he wanted his name to be said with an undertone of strength and power, not sensitivity. He wanted to call her Granger, and he wanted her to call him Malfoy.

The fact that they now had the same last name, however, presented some problems with this scheme.

She sat down next to him and put her hand over his. He flinched at the contact.

“You told me it didn’t matter,” she said. Finally, he looked over at her. She seemed so sincere, but he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. However, she took his silence as a suitable response.

“What your father said,” she continued, “I mean, I’d understand if you-”

“What does my father have to do with anything?” he cut her off.

She ignored him. “If you were troubled by it. But Draco, we’ve been married for almost _fifteen years_. Surely you had already known this was coming.”

Draco was thoroughly confused, and even though he had only been up for an hour or so, it felt like three days had already gone by. He had been married for fifteen years, had two children, and apparently his father was meddling. What was she talking about now? He didn’t respond, and she took this as a sign to continue.

“It’s not like he’s ever been _happy_ about, well… _us_ , but you told me that you have everything you need here, that you don’t need the…the inheritance. And Draco, it’s been fifteen years already. You can’t possibly think about just leaving us! What about your children?”

His eyes widened. So that was what this was all about. He had chosen Hermione over _everything_. He wouldn’t get his inheritance. He would lose the Manor. He would lose whatever honor the Malfoy family had earned in this strange reality.

And he had thrown it all away for _her._ And _his children_. Gads, he hated the way that sounded. But why would he even think about doing that? How was she at all special, worth the amount of money he could get?

“I’ll talk to him,” Draco muttered. He didn’t exactly lie to her. He would need to talk to his father. But he had no intentions of throwing away the life he knew for this new one, with Hermione Granger, annoying know-it-all, and their two children.

 

-000-

 

He hadn’t been able to get a good look at the room he had woken up in. He was too frazzled to get a good idea of where he was. But now that he was in that same room again, he felt inclined to look over every inch.

It wasn’t a very impressive room. The white carpet covered the floor, and the walls were covered in a coat of light blue paint. There was a closet in the corner, which held both his and Hermione’s robes and clothes, opposite the room from the door to the hallway outside.

He walked around the bed to the dresser. Across the top was scattered various pieces of jewelry and family photographs. He noticed that the jewelry was quite nice, and wondered whether he had given it to Hermione as gifts.

He picked up one of the photographs. He stood next to Hermione, his arm around her waist. In front of her stood their son, whose name he had learned was Ephrem, and her hand was resting lightly on his shoulder. Next to Draco was their daughter, Calliope. She was tugging on his pant leg, trying to get his attention. Every once in a while, he would look down and ruffle her hair, and she would bat his hand away and fix it.

He placed the photograph face down on the dresser, not caring to look at it anymore.

He turned around at the sound of the door being opened. Hermione stepped into the room gingerly, closing the door behind her, and sat down on the bed, looking at Draco inquiringly.

“So?” He leant back onto the dresser and crossed his arms again.

“Come here,” she said, beckoning him with her hand. He shook his head.

“I’ll stay here.”

“Alright,” she nodded, and he thought she was going to drop it, but instead she got up and walked to him. He swallowed hard. Her hands were in his hair, brushing it into place, and her eyes were watching her work. His were on her face. How could she look so calm, when everything was so out of place? Finally, she brought her hands down to her sides.

“What’s on your mind?” she said softly, taking his hands. He looked down at her fingers, intertwined with his, and almost gagged. He was sorely tempted to tear his hand from hers and run out of the room, out of the house. But where would he go? He didn’t even know where he was. So he left his hands in hers. Her hands were warm, at least, and her skin was soft.

“I’m just tired, I guess,” he mumbled. She was far too close to him for his liking, and only leaning closer.

“Just think about what I said.” Her fingers were tracing the muscles on his chest through his shirt. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. “Don’t make a decision so quickly, please?”

And then she kissed him. Like it was the most normal, mundane thing in the world. His eyes were still closed, but her lips were on his, and her palms were pressed against his chest. She was leaning fully into him and _Gads, her lips were still on his_. She pulled back and took note of his guarded stance and expression. She smirked, kissed him lightly once more, and then backed away.

“I love you,” she smiled. Every romantic notion he had ever thought about a real smile turned out to be true. Even he couldn’t deny that, with a smile on her face, even _she_ was at least a little attractive. 

 

But what did she expect him to say to that? No one had told him they loved him, ever. Not seriously, at least. He had no experience with this. He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, what he was supposed to think, what he was supposed to do. However, looking at him again, it seemed she didn’t expect him to say anything. She was perfectly content having told him of her own feelings without him telling her back.

Then she left the room. Draco touched his lips lightly with his fingers. Then, he ran down the hall to the bathroom and he vomited. 


End file.
